Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 96

96. The Utility of a Useless Pearl

Early in the morning, Grace visited the charity school managed by the Grentabridge parish. It was a drastic measure to break through sleepless nights and lethargic days. Additionally, she hoped to settle her restless heart, which had been in turmoil since Richard Spencer’s recent proposal.

Until a few decades ago, Ingrint had virtually no educational institutions for commoners. Education was distinctly regarded as the exclusive privilege of the nobility.

Furthermore, perceptions of education varied significantly across social classes. Nobles like Theresius Wilford largely viewed the education of lower-class individuals with disdain, fearing that more knowledge would lead to rebellion.

On the other hand, commoners showed little enthusiasm for education. For those struggling to make ends meet, learning a few letters seemed far less important than pulling up a few more tufts of grass to survive.

As a result, despite being the wealthiest nation on the continent, Ingrint had a high illiteracy rate among commoners. More than 70% of the population was virtually uneducated, causing internal social problems and making the country a laughingstock among its neighbors.

To address this situation, priests of the Ingrintian Church took action. They began establishing charity schools in parishes as a means to educate impoverished children, improve moral values, and shield the masses from subversive ideologies.

Known as “Blue Coat Schools,” these parish-run charity schools derived their name from the color of the uniforms worn by the students. They provided children with basic literacy and religious education, and in some cases, practical subjects like weaving or sewing were added to the curriculum.

The charity school in Dockland, where Grace had briefly taught, was originally established for children’s daytime classes. However, factory workers who were too busy scraping by during the day couldn’t afford to send their children to school. Young children were expected to start earning money as soon as they could walk.

Thus, the Dockland school transformed into a place that opened its doors at night for anyone wishing to learn. Even so, with low enrollment, it was perpetually at risk of closure.

In contrast, the Grentabridge charity school boasted superior facilities and a broader range of subjects. True to its original purpose, it offered daytime classes for children.

This was because the Grentabridge parish was wealthier than those in other regions of Ingrint. Grentabridge attracted spendthrift noble students, leaving the townsfolk free from financial worries. Consequently, donations to the church were larger than elsewhere.

A middle-aged priest, whose waistline was at least three times the average circumference, greeted Grace with a greasy smile and guided her inside. Mistaking her for a donor, he had been eager to assist.

Trailing behind the priest, Grace hesitantly spoke up.

“E-excuse me. I’m here because I saw the n-notice about a teaching position.”

The priest’s expression immediately soured upon realizing she wasn’t there to make a donation. Straightening his posture and looking down at her condescendingly, he responded.

“Are you saying you want to teach, Miss? Or do you have someone else to recommend?”

The unspoken subtext of “You, of all people?” was painfully familiar to Grace. Forcing an awkward smile, she replied, “I-I’d like to. I’ve taught at a c-charity school in L-Lydon before.”

“Which parish in Lydon?”

“D-Dockland.”

At her response, the priest no longer bothered to hide his disdain.

“Well, I suppose a slum like that would be short on teachers. No one would want to work there, so they must accept just anyone.”

“……”

“We have no plans to hire additional teachers at our school, Miss Gurton.”

Grace nodded and turned away. The substantial donation she had intended to make with the funds Lady Montague had entrusted to her remained untouched in her possession.

A notice about the teaching vacancy still hung prominently outside the charity school. There was no need to ask why she had been rejected; the reason was obvious.

Even in Lydon, she might not have been able to volunteer had Theresius Wilford not accompanied her. The headmaster of the Dockland charity school had initially been taken aback upon meeting Grace. After recovering his composure, he reluctantly nodded in agreement to let her teach.

That was the nature of flaws. Dozens or even hundreds of virtues could pale in the face of a single decisive shortcoming.

No matter how brilliant the light emanating from a pearl, people’s eyes would always first find the dented edge. That flawed pearl would be classified as a defective product, unworthy of being cherished.

Such was reality, unfortunate as it was. It was why someone like Grace Gurton didn’t belong by Richard Spencer’s side.

Grace Gurton was someone even a rural charity school had rejected. The treasures of the Spencer family deserved to be adorned with flawless, beautiful pearls without the slightest blemish.

A gust of wind blew the advertisement for the teaching position under her foot. Feeling a surge of frustration, Grace stomped on it firmly before walking away.

From a distance, two men watched her quietly.

***

“Charity school?”

Richard muttered, still sprawled in bed, not having risen despite the sun hanging high in the sky. He lay there in an unsightly manner, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Watching this pathetic sight, Sebastian replied, “Yes. She went to the school affiliated with the parish this morning, but it seems things didn’t go well.”

As a seasoned attendant of Richard Spencer, the Young Earl, Sebastian took a certain pride in his work. Serving the heir of a great noble family was a professional role that required a high level of intelligence.

But here was Richard Spencer, tasking the intelligent Sebastian with errands he wouldn’t dare handle himself, while lying idle and staring at the ceiling. The humiliating task in question was to investigate Grace Gurton’s recent activities—a job that was essentially no different from stalking.

If this were Lydon, the task could have been entrusted to a tight-lipped servant. But here in Grentabridge, circumstances forced Sebastian to bear the full burden. Considering the Young Earl’s dignity, he hadn’t even dared to breathe a word of this to the maid, Becky.

“What do you mean things didn’t go well?”

Pressing his left temple with his fingers, Richard sat up. Having eaten poorly for several days, his broad shoulders now looked uncharacteristically frail.

This sight tugged at Sebastian’s heartstrings…

Sebastian had to suppress his desire to leap out of the carriage and demand an explanation from Grace Gurton. What was wrong with his master that she would reject him? What made her so special that she could turn down the Young Earl of Spencer? How much would it take to make things right? Such words burned in Sebastian’s throat.

After all, Richard Spencer was flawless, save for his peculiar personality. He was, after all, the most eligible bachelor in Ingrint and the darling of high society.

Besides, if eccentricities were a fault, Grace Gurton wasn’t exactly free of them either. Was it normal to chatter on about the Fibonacci sequence in sunflower seeds or the golden ratio of a villa while taking a stroll?

Richard was simply naive, which explained his bungled proposal. But did that justify her outright rejection? If it had been Sebastian, he would have accepted the proposal on the spot, eyes brimming with tears of joy.

Even if Grace Gurton spent her life reclining idly like a noble of Romia, endlessly chewing food only to taste and spit it out, the Spencer family’s fortune would not diminish. Even if she smeared rare honey from the Indus Highlands over her entire body every day, like the Pharaohs of Egupt, it would still make no dent in their wealth.

He was offering her such a life. What could possibly be wrong with that? Not long ago, she would blush pink and fiddle with her fingers just at the sight of Richard Spencer. Now she rejected him outright?

Women, Sebastian thought, had no sense of loyalty. They stirred a man’s heart and then acted as if nothing had happened. How was the poor man supposed to live afterward? The Young Earl of Spencer had only recently begun mingling with humanity, a delicate and precious being requiring gentle care and attention.

This was why, Sebastian thought, one shouldn’t even smile at country bumpkins.

“Apparently, she wanted to teach at the charity school.”

“And?”

“Well, they told her they had no plans to hire teachers, so she just left.”

Sebastian replied while gazing sympathetically at Richard’s shoulders, which appeared so emaciated they seemed to reveal the bones beneath.

He deliberately chose not to mention the parish priest’s ridicule of Grace Gurton behind her back. Given Richard Spencer’s already heightened sensitivity, who knew if he might destroy not just the charity school but the entire Grentabridge parish in a fit of anger?